A New Path
by consulting-gallifreyan
Summary: an Au story. Someone from Sherlock's past returns, are they a friend? or foe? Lame summary, sorry!
1. Chapter 1

***insert clever disclaimer***

**this work is un-betaed. all mistakes belong to me. **

**/update/ I fixed the linebreaks... **

"What did forensics find?" Sherlock asked sliding his magnifying glass shut.

"Nothing, that's why we called you," Lestrade answered. "No fingerprints, no hair, no footprints, no fibres; we don't even know how they got past security. Did you find anything?"

"No, I didn't." Sherlock replied after a moment's hesitation. He turned around, coat swirling behind him, and walked towards the exit. "Text me if anything turns up."

"Where are you off to?" Lestrade inquired following him.

"Lunch with John and Mary, have to run." He walked out the door. "Taxi!" he shouted holding up one hand.

"Come on in, Sherlock is upstairs already, waiting on you." Mrs. Hudson said as she ushered John and Mary into 221b. A loud 'bang' rang out cutting Mrs. Hudson off.

"That wasn't upstairs, what was that?" John asked looking around.

"I've got a new lodger; I renovated 221c. There's a young woman living there, she's just getting moved in."

"Who is she?" Mary asked.

"Her name is Talia Awasis, other than that, I don't know much." Mrs. Hudson turned to go into her own flat. "If you need anything, let me know."

"Thank you." Marry called starting up the stairs. John followed. He knocked, only getting a bored, 'come in' in return. They walked into the flat. Sherlock was draped over the couch, hands steepled under his chin.

"Hello, Sherlock, how are you?" Mary asked taking off her coat.

"Bored." He replied.

"Any interesting cases?" John asked sitting in his old chair.

"Just one." Sherlock finally opened his eyes. "A break in, a bit of vandalism if you want to call it that."

"That's all? Doesn't sound like something you would be interested in." John noted as Mary went into the kitchen.

"It isn't the crime itself that's interesting, it's the fact there was no evidence." Sherlock sat up, "The British Museum was broken into last night. Some of the displays had been moved around, but nothing was taken, broken, or otherwise damaged. No fingerprints, not even smudges from using gloves. Nothing special about the way the displays were reorganized. That's why I was called; that and everyone on the police force is completely incompetent."

"Nothing at all?" John ignored Sherlock's ending statement.

"Yes, that's what I said isn't it?" Sherlock stood and began pacing.

"Have you met your new neighbor yet?" Mary called from where she was cooking.

"I have a new neighbor?" Sherlock looked puzzled.

"You really are oblivious sometimes." Mary said stirring the pasta. "Why don't you two invite her up for dinner?"

"Mary, _you _can run down and invite her, I'm not taking Sherlock down there to terrorize her before she even gets to the flat." John protested.

"Fine, I will. Come make sure this doesn't burn." Mary ordered. John got up and walked into the kitchen. He picked up a spoon and stirred the pot on the stove.

"What is it?" he asked as she walked away.

"Dinner." She walked out and down the stairs. John huffed at her response. Sherlock paced and John poked at their cooking dinner. Mary came back up the stairs in a few minutes.

"She said she didn't do people," Mary said in explanation for being alone. John smiled,

"Sounds like Sherlock." He remarked handing her the spoon.

"Yeah, she even had that same 'I can see right through you' look as he does. It's a bit frightening."

"What, when he uses it, or when she does?"

"Both." Mary said after some thought. "Hand me that tin, will you dear?" she pointed. John picked it up and gave it to her. John saw Sherlock in the sitting room out of the corner of his eye. He turned all the way around to look; and laughed out loud.

"What is it John?"

He pointed, and soon Mary was laughing to. With the way Sherlock was stretched out upside-down on the couch, it would be hard not to.

"Lunch's almost ready Sherlock, why don't you get up and get ready?" Mary called.

"Lunch. Lunch's boring, the perfect crime was committed last night, and _you're _worried about _dinner?"_ Sherlock spat. He got up nevertheless. John chuckled, and Mary shook her head.

"Do you want to go with him after we eat?" Mary asked setting the pasta on the clean (for once) table.

"Sure you don't mind?" John sat at the table.

"Not at all, dear." Mary set the dishes on the table. Sherlock strode into the kitchen and sat across from John. Mary sat next to her husband, and they began eating.

_Boring. Bored. Booooorrrriiinngg! Maybe if I read this book... Those two get married, she is the criminal, and he dies. Okay, that didn't work. It is so boring! I haven't had anything fun to do since I broke into the British museum last night. Argh! I could go meet the tenants in 221b... Nah, they're probably just your average idiots. I'm going to Scotland Yard; maybe they'll have something, anything, for me to do. _Such were the thoughts of Ms. Awasis as she wandered about her flat. She pulled on her coat, remembering the matching one she had given to someone long ago. She pulled on some gloves and strode out of the flat. She hailed a cab and set off towards New Scotland Yard. Traffic was slow, and Talia was impatient. She kept analyzing people they passed. It was dull; she couldn't really see details from here. She tapped out a beat with her fingers, and her leg bounced, although she didn't remember telling it to. When the cab** finally **got to Scotland Yard she bounded out telling the cabbie her name so he could just charge the money to the account someone had set up for her. Talia walked quickly towards the building in front of her. She pulled open the door and stepped in. /describe front room/ Talia walked up to the desk looking over the woman in front of her before speaking,

"You have an older brother and a younger sister. You took ballet classes when you were seven, but stopped at ten due to a broken leg. You could have kept going but didn't because you only started because your mother wanted you to. You live on Greenwood Avenue, with a Siamese cat. You don't own a car, but you used to. You attended Wexburg Academy and graduated valedictorian. You chose this job because your father was murdered when you were 12. No, 13, sorry." Talia paused at the secretaries flabbergasted look, "now, send me to your least irritating officer, or I shall find him myself." Several people had stopped to listen or stare. She ignored them. The lady at the desk picked up the phone and dialed a number, to an office within the building. Talia backed away slightly as she spoke in hushed tones. The lady hung up.

"Someone is coming down to see you." She stated pleasantly. Talia rolled her eyes. Shortly thereafter, a silver haired man walked in. _detective inspector, _she thought absently, _homicide division. _

"I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade, can I help you?" he asked with a slight chuckle at her appearance. Talia narrowed her eyes.

"You wouldn't, by any chance, have had any dealings with Sherlock or Mycroft Holmes would you?"

"Well, yes I would." He sounded suspicious at her questioning.

"Where does Sherlock live these days?"

"Now, I can't go handing out personal information."

"Call him. Tell him Talia says hello." She ordered with a small smile.

They had all eaten dinner, and Mary was washing dishes. John and Sherlock were in the living room talking. John laughed, and Mary called,

"Shouldn't you be working on the break-in?"

"Break-ins are boring."

"Sherlock, you said yourself it was the perfect break-in." John protested.

"What would you like me to do, pull the culprit from thin air?" Sherlock shot back caustically. "There was literally _no_ evidence. **_I _**don't even know what to do, what makes you think the idiots at Scotland Yard will find anything?"

"We weren't even talking about Scotland Yard! Oh I see. This is really getting to you isn't it?" John asked. Sherlock grunted in response, rolling over to face the backrest of the couch. John rolled his eyes. Mary walked in right as Sherlock's phone rang. Seeing his friend made no move to answer, John stood with a sigh to pick it up.

"Hello?" he said

"John? That you?" Lestrade's voice crackled through.

"Yeah, what's going on, Greg?"

"I'm not really sure, is Sherlock there?"

"Yeah, he's here, got a case for him?"

"No. no I don't think so. Can I talk to him for a minute?" Lestrade asked after hesitating.

"Sure, hang on." John pulled the phone away from his ear, "Sherlock," he addressed his former flatmate, "it's Lestrade, says he needs to talk to you." Sherlock reached a hand out, without sitting up. John placed it in his open palm. Sherlock brought it down to his ear and mumbled something into it. He went silent, and Lestrade must be saying something interesting, for Sherlock's eyes widened marginally. Suddenly, he shot up into a sitting position.

"Is she still there?" he asked impatiently. John and Mary traded curious glances. "No, don't tell her anything, I'm on my way." He jumped up off the couch, pocketing his phone. He grabbed his coat and gloves putting them on even as he exited the flat. The door slammed downstairs signaling his complete absence.

"Wonder what that was about." Mary mused.

**review! **


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock hurried into New Scotland Yard. He took no notice of anything or anyone, mind fixed solely upon his destination. When he reached Lestrade's office he flung open the door, eager to be inside. As soon as he entered, Lestrade stood. Sherlock didn't even spare him a glance.

"Talia." He breathed.

"Sherlock, good to see you." She greeted with a nice smile. She stood and walked over to face him. Lestrade took in the sight. It was rather shocking. Talia stood only an inch shorter than Sherlock, and they were wearing identical coats. Sherlock's hair was black and curly as ever, while Talia's was only wavy and platinum blonde. They both had prominent cheekbones, although Talia's seemed sharper. Sherlock's piercing gray-green eyes were met with an ice blue gaze. Sherlock, in his usual suit, was matched by Talia with practically the same outfit, only a feminine version.

"You haven't been eating properly." Sherlock finally broke the silence. Talia snorted.

"Yeah, well, running from the Chechenian's will make you forget about eating." She retorted. "How long ago did your flatmate move out?"

"A few months ago; He got married."

"Ahh. So where exactly are you living these days?" she asked.

"221b Baker Street."

"You're joking."

"I'm not in the habit of making jokes."

"I just moved in to 221c." Talia paused, "It will be just like old times, wont it brother dear?"

"Wait, you're his sister?" Lestrade finally spoke up.

"Twin sister, actually."

"Twin- you have a _twin?_" Lestrade asked incredulously.

"Obviously; do keep up." Sherlock took Talia's arm. "If you'll excuse us, my sister and I shall be leaving for dinner."

"But you just ate!" Talia protested.

"And you haven't." Sherlock countered. "Goodbye Gavin."

"It's Greg." Talia corrected before Lestrade had the chance.

The matching pair swept out of the office in a swirl of identical coattails. Greg Lestrade plopped down into his desk chair; trying to wrap his head around the fact the Sherlock Holmes had a twin sister.

"So do we stay and wait for him to come back or…" Mary trailed off.

"Knowing Sherlock he may stay away until midnight. But if you haven't got anything else to do we could stay and watch telly." John suggested looking down at his watch.

"You're the one who has work tomorrow, I've the day off." Mary taunted. John chuckled.

"Come on then, what do you want to watch?" he sat and pulled her onto his lap. She grabbed the remote and clicked it on. When they found a show they could agree on they settled in to watch. Doctor who reruns splashed across the screen of 221b's television screen. It could've passed as…normal, but nothing was ever normal if it had any tiny part to do with Sherlock Holmes. That was something anyone who ever came into contact with him would learn sooner or later. The peaceful scene was shattered by the sound of the door slamming and a laugh. John looked at Mary as he heard a laugh and thundering footsteps on the staircase. The door was flung open and a tall blonde tumbled in followed closely by Sherlock.

"Ha! Told you I could still beat you!" the girl spoke as she took of her coat. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but he saw John and Mary. He cleared his throat loudly. The girl whirled around.

"John. Mary. What are you doing here?" Sherlock's deep voice rumbled as he more slowly removed his coat and scarf.

"Well, when you run off right after dinner without explanation, I wanted to make sure everything was alright." Mary stood and John followed shortly thereafter.

"Everything is fine." Sherlock stated succinctly. The girl, who had hung her coat where Sherlock's usually, was. She walked to stand by Sherlock. Arms crossed over her chest, and she tilted her head to one side.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" she asked in a faux sweet tone.

"You say that as if you are incapable of introducing yourself." Sherlock's tone was… teasing? That did not seem right.

"I'm Talia. You must be John and Mary, since that is what Sherlock said after we came in." she stepped forward to shake each of their hands in turn.

"You're the girl from downstairs." Mary noted.

"yup." Talia agreed offering no explanation. The silence stretched. Talia clapped loudly, turning to face Sherlock, who hadn't moved since their unorthodox entrance a few minutes prior, "where is the food you promi-prom…." Her voice trailed off and she started to fall. Sherlock stepped forward and caught her, lifting her easily.

"John is there any orange juice in the fridge?" he asked as he placed her on the couch.

"No, Mrs. Hudson might have some."

"Go get it." John took of down the stairs Mary walked over to the couch.

"What's going on, Sherlock?"

"Hypoglycemic attack, I'm guessing." He pulled a small black case from Talia's pocket. He put a new test strip in the meter, and pricked the tip of one of her fingers with a lancet. He dropped the lancet to the floor, getting a drop of blood on the meter strip. It beeped and he swore under his breath, "thought so." He muttered a bit louder. He pulled a syringe and a vial of liquid. Mary watched him prepare and administer the syringe with a practiced ease. John came back up the stairs with a small bottle of orange juice.

"Here, do you need anything else?" he asked handing the juice to Sherlock.

"Something with sugar in it for her to eat." Sherlock answered, gently smoothing the hair out of Talia's face, as Mary went to find something. John was startled at the caring gesture. _Who is this woman?_ He thought to himself. Mary came back with a packet of biscuits. "Set them down, she can eat them once the glucagon starts working."

"Sherlock, what's going on?"

"Hypoglycemic attack."

"She was fine earlier."

"Hypo unawareness. She doesn't show symptoms."

"Do you need me to do anything?" John asked. Sherlock sat back on his haunches, blowing his hair away from his eyes.

"You can call 911 but she won't go. When she wakes up, I'll make sure she eats. You can go home."

"I'll stay and check her out when she wakes up, I'm a doctor after all." John says crouching next to Sherlock.

"Army doctor." Talia mumbles, eyes fluttering.

"Talia, I need you to drink this for me, alright?" Sherlock says softly. He slid a hand beneath her head and lifted it a bit to stick the straw from the juice in her mouth. Talia takes a sip before saying anything else.

"'Lock, you know I don't like orange juice, why couldn't you have gotten something else?"

"Because it's all we had, drink some more, or I will force you to a hospital." He replied in the same, strange, gentle voice. Talia complied with only a small eye roll. They sat in relative silence until Talia had finished the juice. She pushed herself into a sitting position, propped against the arm of the couch. Talia held out a hand for the biscuits and Sherlock opened them before handing them to her.

"What happened to your insulin pump?" he asked.

"I lost it in Chechnya somewhere." She answers around the food in her mouth.

"We'll have to go get you a new one then." Sherlock stood, "rest, you can have something better to eat in a few minutes alright?"

"Whatever you say." But she lay back down and closed her eyes anyway. Sherlock smiled down at her before turning and walking to the kitchen; gesturing Mary and John to follow.

"You have questions." It was a statement, not a question, because with Sherlock it never was.

"Yeah, who is she? Besides your neighbor?" Mary asked taking a seat at the table.

"Talia Holmes. She's my twin sister." He stated simply, as if he talked about her every day.

"Why didn't you ever say anything about her?" the question was from John this time.

"Because I thought she was dead."

**Review and suggestions appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

"What?" John asked crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, do you mind if I ask why?"

"When we were younger we both were too smart for our own good. I would call in to Scotland Yard and solve a crime I had read in the paper, not that they ever listened. She broke into 10th Downing Street and exposed several conspiracies. She had figured it out watching the telly, and only needed evidence; so she got it. We were both eleven at the time. Mycroft noticed. He was already into the government at 17, and he decided she would be perfect for undercover work at mi6. He waited until she was thirteen, when our parents decided a special school would be better for her, and put her undercover in-well it's classified. She's a spy. Has been from her thirteenth birthday onwards. She disappeared about a month before we moved into 221b, Mycroft even came to the funeral." He stopped. "Last we knew she was in South Africa, her partner said she was in an underground compound when it blew up."

"I'm sorry Sherlock." John apologized.

"Don't be, I did it to you." At this John flinched. "Sorry for that, again."

"If you've got everything under control, we need to get home. I have work tomorrow." John offered a hand to Mary, helping her up. Sherlock nodded absently as they turned to go.

"Are we still on for dinner day after tomorrow?" Mary asked as they prepared their things to leave, "or do you want to catch up with your sister.

"I don't know." Sherlock said simply. "She may not stick around."

"Well, she might. I'll text you tomorrow sometime, alright?"

"Yeah, fine." Sherlock mumbled.

Mary and John left, not offended when he didn't return their goodbyes. Sometimes when Sherlock was thinking he would go practically catatonic; it was no stretch of the imagination to believe his mind was awhirl with thoughts due to his sister's sudden reappearance in his life.

As soon as the door closed behind them Talia's voice rang through the flat.

"If you want to go with your friends to dinner that's fine with me."

"You're awake." Sherlock noted as he stood.

"'course I'm awake, I never fell asleep." Talia muttered derisively as her brother walked toward the couch where she lay.

"Does Mycroft know?"

"He's probably on his way here, I used the account I have set up with the cab companies, and he's been notified by now." She paused. The doorbell rang. "And there he is." She finally opened her eyes and pushed herself up on the couch. Sherlock opened the door for his brother.

Mycroft walked into the flat eyes going immediately to his sister.

"Talia? Explain yourself. Now." He ordered pointing the omniscient black umbrella at said girl who was now standing next to the sofa.

"Put that ridiculous umbrella away and I will; soon as I get something to eat other than those disgusting things John called biscuits." She marched into the kitchen, opening the fridge. The men trailed after her. Talia opened the refrigerator, not even batting an eye at the severed foot sitting inside. She grabbed a container of the pasta from earlier that evening. She bustled about the small kitchen reheating the food. "Sit down you two it's going to be a while." She said over her shoulder as she stirred the pot she had just placed on the stove. They all remained silent as the pasta warmed. Talia got out two bowls and filled them, setting one at her place at the table and the other before Mycroft. Mycroft opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off with a sharp "shut up, I know you're hungry." Without even looking up from where she was reading a scrap of paper someone had left on the table. Mycroft shook his head with a slight quirk of the lips that could be called a smile. They both started eating and Talia began her story.

Lestrade stared out the door at the retreating backs of the, apparently, Holmes twins. He shook his head sitting down heavily in the desk chair he had only minutes previously vacated. His sergeant, Sally Donovan, opened the door.

"Why's the freak here?" she asked as she entered the room. "We aren't working on a case you need him for."

"No, no, he wasn't here for a case." Lestrade mumbled dazedly. Sally gave him a funny look.

"So, what? He just stopped by to say hello? Who was that with him?"

"That was-" Lestrade began only to be cut off by the door opening again. Mycroft strode in.

"Detective Inspector, did a young woman come here inquiring about cases recently?"

"No. but we did have a woman asking about Sherlock, and-"

"Has she left?" Mycroft interrupted.

"Yeah, she and Sherlock left together about three minutes ago. Why do you ask?"

"Never mind, thank you for your time, I must be going now." And with that Mycroft was gone, leaving as suddenly as he came. Only when he had to deal with both- or in this case all three, of the Holmes siblings was Lestrade reminded how strange they all were. He turned back to Sergeant Donovan, taking a deep breath.

"Where were we on the Patterson case?"

"Do you think he is going to be alright?" John asked his wife as their car pulled away from the curb.

"I don't know. I don't know what things were like for him before, I don't know his sister at all, but I think, we'll find out eventually. Who knows, maybe Sherlock will be a little less Sherlock with his twin back in his life. Only time will tell." Mary stated absently, thinking back to a blonde woman she had worked with many years ago.

"You both know the details of the operation I was on, so I'll spare you the recap," Talia began as she ate a bit of the pasta, "I was in the building when it went up in flames. I just wasn't where I told her I would be. Yes, Mycroft, I lied to my partner; don't even think of reprimanding me. I had my reasons, but we will come to that in a minute. I was in the fifth level underground at the time of explosion. I managed to get out after the fires at the upper part had been put out, disguised as an Irishman. After that I was curious and couldn't go back home without tipping my hand so I stayed away and worked for the CIA in Chechnya." Talia paused, "now, I was lying to my 'partner' because she was contracted to kill me."

**I keep ending things this way!**


End file.
